Empathy and Sociopathy
by Averysillybird
Summary: A young character from a past case of sherlock arrives at 221b baker street requesting to live with them. At first Sherlock intends to completely ignore her, only letting her live with them because of how desperate she seems, but perhaps they have more in common than he assumes. (Centered around an OC of mine)
1. Introduction

_This is the sequel to my fanfiction _Coincidence Does Not Imply Causality. _Please review! I love feedback! _

The sound of Sherlock's violin drifted through the flat. John groaned, turning over in his bed. "What the hell time is it?" He muttered, turning over again. He opened his eyes, and stared at the clock. "Oh god that can't be right," He groaned. John rolled onto his back for a second before propping himself up. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. When they confirmed it was indeed 5:00 in the morning, he sighed deeply and fell back on his bed again. "Why Sherlock?" He mumbled, his voice and facial expression were utterly exasperated. After about fifteen minutes, Sherlock was still playing. John knew it was no use trying to get back to sleep. With a loud sighing groan, John practically rolled out of bed. Shuffling down the hall, he stuck his head in the doorway of parlor. Sherlock's back was turned to his. "Why?" John repeated, this time his hand motions matched the exasperation in his voice. Sherlock finished the piece before turning around. He moved to sit in the chair closest to the window, clearly still lost in thought. John sighed again and slumped into the chair across from him. "If I asked you what you were thinking about, would you tell me?" Sherlock said nothing for a few second before he seemed to shift his attention to John. "I've gone soft John." "I'm sorry, what?" John asked, not following where Sherlock was going. "The Ayrd case John, what if that sentimental story affected my judgment." Sherlock got up again looking rather agitated. He began to pace. John rolled his eyes and said, "No Sherlock, that was the only logical possibility. We both know that…Besides, that was weeks ago… You've solved several cases since then with no trouble what so ever." Sherlock continued to pace. "But I still should have given the address to Lestrade, why didn't I turn him in?" John shrugged, "You trusted your judgment more than a Jury's… That doesn't make you soft…" John stood up, "it just makes you a bit self absorbed…Look, I am going back to bed…Don't worry so much, ok?" As he reached the hallway he muttered, "Besides, having a shred of compassion wouldn't exactly add up to Sherlock Holmes being soft."

A few hours later, John was slouched in the couch with his laptop. Sherlock had gone back to pacing. appeared in the doorway, grocery bags in hand. "Boys, I think there is someone waiting for you outside your door." Sherlock was still completely lost in his thoughts. John was too exhausted to be paying much attention to anything at all. Ms. Hudon cleared her throat, speaking a bit louder she said, "It's a young woman, can't be very old… She said she was still thinking of what she was going to say and that's why she hadn't rang yet." John shook his head and mumbled, "Sorry what?" Ms. Hudson sighed and said, "You have a guest waiting for you at your front door that you shouldn't keep waiting any longer." She left shaking her head. "I swear they never learn to listen.


	2. Section 1

John opened the door and peered out. He glanced down and saw the girl perched on the first step, her back to the door. He squinted his eyes slightly, she looked very familiar. "May I help you?" He asked quietly, with curiosity in his voice. girl stood up and spun around, she stared directly at John's eyes. "Oh… h-hello. Sorry, I… um…Mr. Watson, I am Susan Aryd, do you remember me?" "Oh, yes, of course. Actually, Sherlock was just talking about you." The girl seemed to perk up nervously, "H-he was? Do you know why?" John sighed and shook his head, sighing. "You really probably don't want to know." John glanced over his shoulder and then turned back to Susan. Gesturing with his hand he said, " Uh, Would you like to come inside, I could make some tea?" Susan nodded nervously. John turned and headed back inside, Susan followed closely behind. Sherlock didn't look up as John and Susan passed the doorway. He was becoming agitated, he was trying to distract himself by analyzing a few possible cases. "None of these are any good!" Sherlock's voice echoed through the hallway as the teakettle bubbled. Susan seemed to flinch nervously. John sneezed several times. "Bless you!" Susan said each time. It was clear from the sound of the sneeze that john was feeling very congested. John made a face and groaning noise of discomfort. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice sounded genuinely concerned. John nodded, the teakettle whistled and he poured the water into the teapot, he set the lid on to let it steep. He began looking through the cupboards for a clean mug saying, "I think it's just allergies or something…it is that time of year." "Oh I'm sorry, you should make sure to rest up and take plenty of vitamin c, though, just incase. I also apologize, I don't know many remedies for helping with allergies." John stopped what he was doing for a second. He was not used to people expressing their concern for him. "Oh, I know, but… thank you." He found a mug and set it near the teapot. "Do you like anything in your tea… sugar…cream?" "Oh I like it plain, thank you," She said quietly, smiling nervously. John glanced at the doorway and then back at the teapot. He breathed out through his nose and said, "Perhaps I should ask Sherlock if he'd like a cup as well." He nodded silently to himself and then turned back to Susan, "I'll be …right back." Susan followed him with her eyes as he walked out of the doorway. She heard John stop and say, "I was just brewing a pot of tea, would you like any?" "Tea, I don't have time for tea," Sherlock hissed, Susan could hear the rustling of paper and an audible sigh from John. "Well is there anything I can do…?" "No, there is nothing you can do because what I need is a case or a cigarette, neither of which you will give me." John was muttering something as he came back in the kitchen. He poured out two mugs of tea and carried them over to the table. He set one in front of Susan and then sat down at the table himself. "Thank you," Susan said, smiling again slightly. John nodded, and stared at his mug. Susan followed suit and stared at her own mug. They each had taken several sips before at last John looked up and said, "So, what exactly are you doing here?" Susan set down her mug slowly, nodding slightly. She looked up at John and stared into his eyes. "My father is dead. I wasn't able to get the antibiotics in time… He died about a week ago." She closed her eyes for a second, sipped her tea, and took a deep breath. "My first thought was to contact my family, but I wasn't sure how to, so I headed into London. I was able to find the phone number of a possible aunt, but I realized something just as I was about to call her… I decided to check and see if the charges had been dropped on my father. I discovered, then, that I was charged with being his accomplice." She took another sip and shook her head. "I decided it wasn't fair to try and burden my family with that. Any connection I would have would be strained already. I don't have the money to hire a lawyer to clear my name." She took a deep breath, "And so I was wondering… until I find a job and save up enough to buy my own place, would it be alright I stayed with you and Sherlock? I know you both are friends with several fugitives and I get the feeling I'd be… safe here." "I um… well that's… that's… hmm… tricky…" John stood up, thinking. Every now and then he would glance back and Susan, his face showed how clearly mixed his emotions were. He shook his head and said, "I think we should ask Sherlock… because I…I honestly have no idea…" Susan tried to keep her expression even, "Alright Mr. Watson, I understand." John exhaled, "Sorry… look… we can ask him right now if you'd like…" he muttered out of his own guilt. He was unable to look her in the eyes. Susan raised her eyebrow, "Are you sure he's… in a good enough mood for this sort of request?" "Um…" John glanced at the doorway, where he could still hear the sound of sound of frantic rustling he sighed, "Yeah…probably not." He picked up the teapot and said, "This might take a while… we should probably have more tea in the mean time."


	3. Section 2

"Ah Sherlock, may speak to you about something?" John asked, poking his head around the doorframe. Sherlock was arguing with a Television program but he seemed much less agitated. John was not sure how long this mood would last so he knew he had to take advantage of it while he could. "Yes? What is it?" Sherlock asked, he didn't look up and his tone sounded bored. John came in and sat on the couch. He took a deep breath and looked and Sherlock. "What if… Hypothetically… We were to have a new flatmate?" Sherlock turned some of his attention to John and said, "I can tell this is not actually a hypothetical, which implies you already have a specific person in mind." John nodded and Sherlock continued, "If it is your latest girlfriend, I would advice against it." John sighed and said, "No, it's… someone… younger…someone that really needs a place to stay for a awhile." Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows, "Have I met this person before?" John nodded and sat up, "Look, I'll just explain the situation to you, you'll figure out who it is but I hope you have some sense of compassion and understand how much I mean it when I say she needs our help right now." "Alright," Sherlock said, there was a hint of caution in his voice. John took another deep breath and began, "She's about fifteen years old. She became an orphan last week after her father died from pneumonia. She hasn't contacted her family yet because she is technically a fugitive. She only wants to stay with us until she can get a job and save up enough money to buy her own place. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and stood up, "No. It is quite enough that I granted her one favor, I will not permit Susan Aryd to live under my roof." He stalked over to glare out the window. "You know technically its Ms. Hudson's roof," John said, clearly upset with his friend's decision. "I don't care, she is not going to stay here. If nothing else there no room for her." Now John stood up, "Look she could sleep on the couch, she'd take up hardly any room at all." Sherlock turned around and snapped, "I do not understand why you are defending this girl so vehemently." "Because Sherlock, she is alone and scarred and doesn't know where else to turn. Because if we say no she's going to end up sleeping on the streets. Do you know what happens to fifteen year old girls that sleep on the streets?" "Of course I know the risks but it is not our responsibility to protect her." Sherlock growled. "I don't care if it's my responsibility, I know that if I turn her away it will weigh on my conscious for a long long time. Maybe you don't have one, but I do and I don't want to deal with that amount of guilt for the rest of my life." Sherlock exhaled in frustration, he turned back around and said, "Fine." He stalked towards the doorway and said, "But we not going to assume any sort of guardian or caretaker role. Make that clear to her." With that, Sherlock stormed down the stairs. John heard him slam the front door. He fell back onto the couch with a deep sigh, covering his face with his hands. "And this is only the beginning," He mumbled.

"I… uh…I don't know how much of that you heard, " John said, coming into the kitchen, very intentionally avoiding Susan's eyes. "Oh I heard it all," Susan said quietly. John nodded slowly, checking the teapot to see if there was any tea left. He took a deep breath and turned around, once again joining Susan at the table. He finally looked up and saw that despite the tearstains on her cheeks, she was smiling. John looked surprised, he stammered slightly unsure what to say. "John I can't thank you enough, once again, I am so thoroughly in you and Sherlock's debt. I don't know if I can make it up to you." "Oh Susan I..." John stopped, took a deep breath, and found himself returning her smile, "It was my pleasure." Susan stood up and asked quietly, "Do you mind if I go grab my bag? I hid it in the café." "Oh no of course not."


	4. Section 3

When Sherlock returned, Susan was perched silently on the couch, reading a book. John was on his laptop. Sherlock very intentionally ignored Susan as he walk across the room to the desk. "John, I spoke with Lestrade, he has a case he would like our assistance with." "Oh?" John said, look up at Sherlock. "A man has been murdering people seemingly at random, they have arrested him several times but he escaped each time. They need to find his pattern and a way to keep him from escaping." John closed his laptop and stood up, "Alright, where do we begin?"

-  
"I don't understand what happened, she would never hurt anyone," The woman sobbed, John picked up the box of tissues next to him and handed them to the sobbing woman. "What was your daughter doing on Chancery Lane on the evening of her death," Sherlock asked, somewhat impatiently. "She was just going to meet her boyfriend. Oh they were so in love, I thought they were going to get married." She let another loud sob. "Did she have any hobbies? Places she may have met this man before?" John asked quietly, his voice sounded raspy and he coughed as he finished speaking. The woman sniffed and said, "Well she loved to play tennis, and she volunteered quite a lot at the hospital. She also loved being involved in politics." "Which hospital?" Sherlock demanded, suddenly seeming more interested "Ormand street."

Two families of other victims confirmed that the victim they knew had also been involved with Ormand street hospital. John was sitting at the desk when Sherlock came in. He slammed a thick manila folder in front of him. "What is this?" John said, picking up the folder and staring at it. "The suspect's medical record," Sherlock answered. John looked up at him and said incredulously, "How'd you get this?" Sherlock smirked slightly and said, "As irritating as my brother is, his ties do sometimes come in handy." John shook his head, and returned his attention to the folder. Sherlock paced as john looked through the suspects medical records. Susan watched them silently. John's face had grown pale, and it was very clear he was not feeling well at all. "Alright I may be missing something but I can't find anything about that hospital on any of his records," John mumbled. "Let me look," Sherlock said, grabbing the file and scanning it quickly. "However there is one interesting thing I learned… Our suspect was diagnosed with schizophrenia a few years ago." Sherlock stopped scanning the medical record and seemed to ponder that for a second. Suddenly Sherlock's cell phone rang. "John will you get that?" Sherlock said absent mindly. John sighed and mumbled, "Where is it?" Susan got up and grabbed the cellphone off the coffee table, she handed it to John and returned to her perch on the couch. "Thank you," john mumbled as he answered the phone. "Hello, this is John…alright we'll be there shortly," John hung up the phone and attempted to stand up but fell back in the chair, holding his head. He moaned and said, "Actually, perhaps I shouldn't go." "What?" Sherlock demanded, spinning around. "I am not feeling well at all Sherlock, I need to go lie down." "Oh come on now John, you're being overdramatic, you'll be fine." John stood up shakely again. Susan grabbed a blanket from next to the couch and moved quickly to John's side, attempting to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. "Thank you," John said, sneezing loudly, pulling the blanket tight around his body. He looked back up at Sherlock and mumbled, "I will be fine if I can get some rest." He glanced at Susan and then back at Sherlock, "Look if you want someone to come along, Susan could come with you." Susan's eyes grew wide and she smiled nervously. Sherlock and turned to Susan and his eyes narrowed. "No I will conduct this interrogation alone." Sherlock stormed past her and down the stairs. Susan stared after him. When she and John heard the door slam. Susan chuckled and said, "Well at least he's no longer pretending I don't exist." John coughed awkwardly and Susan turned her attention back to him. "May I help you up to your room?" "No, I think I can manage but thank you," he said weakly, shuffling past her. She stared at him with concern. "Alright but if you need anything, please don't hesitate to call for me," She said. John stopped and turned to face her. "He'll come around, he just doesn't like to be proven wrong," "Don't worry, I am not taking it personally," she said, smiling slightly. "Good," John said, nodding slightly and shuffling through the doorway.


	5. Section 4

"Nothing absolutely nothing," Sherlock shouted, storming into the Parlor. He began to pace fiercely and spat, "All he did was sing a silly little children's Rhyme over and over again." "_If you're happy and you know you it, clap your hands,_" Sherlock sang mockingly. He scoffed, still pacing. "I could find no connection from the song to the murders, none what so ever." He collapsed in one of the chairs and hissed, "He was mocking me." Suddenly he turned and stared at the figure on the couch and realized it was not John but Susan. "Where is John?" he demanded. Susan, who had been silently watching Sherlock responded quietly, "Hopefully still asleep, I made him some soup about a half an hour ago" Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Susan stood up and said, "I apologize Mr. Holmes, I know you need your space to think. I'll leave." "That would be appreciated, yes," Sherlock hissed. Susan headed towards the door, Sherlock followed her with his gaze. Susan didn't turn around, she walked directly to the front door and headed outside.

Susan shifted through the change in her pocket. She counted it out, slowly and deliberately. "Damn," He muttered, stuffing the change back into her pocket. She took a messily folded map of London out of her other pocket and opened it up. She found her current location and then the address of Scotland yard. "Oh good, only about two and half miles. I should be able to make it in less than an hour." She folded back up the map, stuffed it into her pocket. She took a deep breath and starting walking down Baker Street.

"I have no idea who you are and yet my secretary buzzed you in because you claimed to be a colleague of Sherlock Holmes," Lestrade said, leaning forward in his desk chair looking skeptically at the young girl that sat across the desk from him. Susan swallowed and said quietly, "I am staying with him and John Watson for the time being. Mr. Watson is feeling under the weather and Mr. Holmes is preoccupied. I have come to speak further with the suspect Harry Peterson. We have a new theory and approach we would like to attempt." Lestrade exhaled loudly, and said, "Let me call them and see if they agree." Susan nodded and said, "Would you be willing to call John, though? Sherlock doesn't seem to be in the best mood today and I'd hate to bother him." Lestrade nodded, understandingly, he'd seen that for himself. He dialed John's number and held the phone to his ear, "Hello John? I apologize if I woke you. There is a girl here, she says her name is Susan Aryd, she claims to live and work with you and Sherlock, is this the truth? …. Alright thank you John." He hung up the phone and turned back to Susan, "Alright, first you're right John did not sound well at all," he stood up and came to the side of his desk, "also, your story appears to check out." Susan stood up as well, smiling slightly. "I'll bring you to the interrogation room now," Lestrade said as he opened his office door. "Thank you," Susan said politely, walking through the open door.

The heavy metal door of the interrogation room shut behind Susan with a loud thud. Susan sat in the small metal chair on one side of the table. She was smiling pleasantly and looking at the man who sat across the metal table from her. The man stared at her, clearly confused by what appeared to be genuine cheerfulness. "Hello Harry, my name is Susan. It's a pleasure to meet you." Suddenly Harry smiled and said, "The pleasure is all mine." "I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances," Susan's expression became slightly apologetic. Harry shook his head and said, "Oh it's fine." Susan's expression seemed to change again, becoming one of concern, "Harry, do you know why you are here?" Harry's face suddenly grew stormy, he nodded and said quietly, "because they don't understand." Susan leaned forward slightly, "What don't they understand Harry?" "They don't understand why those people had to go." "I know how hard it can be when people don't understand. I think they're afraid Harry, because they don't understand." "If they'd just try to understand, if they listened, they wouldn't have to be afraid, I could explain it to them," Harry mumbled, now not looking into Susan's eyes. Susan reached out and gently touched the edge of Harry's fingers. "I want to know Harry, please, explain it to me." Harry looked up, he stared into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity. She stared back, her eyes brimming with compassion. A tear escaped from Harry's eye, he wiped it away and said, "Because they laugh at me Susan. Just like they do here. They mock me. I don't want to be mocked." "Shhhhh," Susan said gently, squeezing his hand, "I promise things are going to be alright now." Harry looked into her eyes again and said earnestly, "I'm afraid." "I know you are Harry, but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they understand." Harry smiled again, "Thank you Susan." She smiled back, "It's my pleasure, I promise." She turned to leave and Harry murmured, "Will I see you again?" Susan nodded and said, "Of course, but I need to know that you'll stay here. Otherwise I don't know if I'll find you again." "Ok," Harry said, "for you Susan. Do you promise you'll speak to them?" "Of course Harry."

Susan ran up the stairs to the parlor. "Sherlock!" she called, out of breath. Sherlock was sitting on of the chairs, he look up at her with contempt. "What?" He asked coldly. Susan seemed undisturbed by Sherlock's reaction, she ran up to him and panted, "Laughter." "What?" Sherlock said again, some of the ice in his voice was replaced by genuinely wanting to hear what she was implying. "I talked to Mr. Peterson. He said they needed to go because they were laughing at him, he said they mocked him at the station. That's why he kills, that's why he escapes." Sherlock stood up and began to pace, "Yes, yes! That makes sense." "There was one victim that was talking on the phone when she was killed right? Find out what the person on the other end of the line heard last." Sherlock searched through his papers to find the witness's information.

-  
"Laughter? What do you mean?" Lestrade asked, glanced from Susan to Sherlock, not understanding. "Sir, laughter was a trigger for him. When he heard it, he felt he was being mocked, he was afraid. He was defending himself sir." Lestrade raised an eyebrow and turned to Sherlock. "One of the victims was talking on the telephone when she was killed. The last thing the person on the other end of the line heard was laughter. The other victims were reported being in a particularly upbeat mood at the time of their death," Sherlock said in his matter-of-fact voice. Lestrade laughed incredulously, "That just… that doesn't seem like enough evidence to draw a conclusion on Sherlock." "Please sir, if you talk to him, if you treat him with compassion and you show you truly want to understand, he'll confirm it. I promised I would explain it for him," Susan insisted, leaning forward as she spoke. Quietly she added, "Also sir, I promised him that things would be alright. I intend to keep that promise. Please sir, he needs help, he is not a criminal." Lestrade sighed and sat back in his chair, placing his fingers on his temples.


	6. Conclusion

The sound of a flute drifted through the flat. Sherlock stood in the doorway of the parlor, watching Susan silently. She was perched on her normal spot on the couch, completely enveloped in her music. Her eyes were shut and her fingers seem to dance on the keys. She landed gracefully on the last note and slowly lowered her flute, taking a deep breath. Sherlock took a step into the room and Susan spun around. Sherlock walked calmly to one of the chairs. He took a sip of tea from the mug he was holding as Susan stared at him. The room was completely silent. Sherlock set the mug down and turned to face Susan. "Partita for solo flute in A minor," He said, identifying the piece she had been playing. Susan nodded, smiling slightly. "I've played it so often I have it memorized," She said quietly. Sherlock nodded slightly and then pointed at her flute case. "What piece is that?" He asked. Susan looked down and blushed slightly, "Oh that's a piece for violin and flute by CPE Bach." "Your reaction to my question implies that you have a strong emotional connection to that work," Sherlock stated blankly. Susan nodded, sighing slightly. "It was the first piece I ever learned, my father used to play violin. We used to play it together." Sherlock turned and leaned back in the chair. Susan began to take her flute apart, cleaning each section carefully. "Thank you," Sherlock said in the silence. Susan stopped and turned again to Sherlock. "What?" She asked surprised, unsure if she had actually heard what she thought she had. Sherlock turned and repeated, "I said thank you." "Y-You're welcome," Susan stammered, thrown completely off guard. "Your assistance in the case was critical and appreciated," Sherlock added. Susan blinked a few times and then a realization hit her. "John told you to say that to me didn't he?" Sherlock shrugged and said simply, "Perhaps." Susan laughed, and finished putting away her flute. There was another extended silence. "How did you know to go to Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. Susan started pulling a toothbrush and other toiletries out of her bag. "Well you mentioned him when you told John about the case, you said he was the one that brought it to you. I asked for him at the front desk and mentioned your name, it worked better than I had hoped," she said, chuckling slightly. Sherlock smirked slightly as well, "It's refreshing to know someone around here listens to me." He stood up and said, "From your behavior I take it you'd like to prepare for bed now but don't want to say anything." Susan blushed but nodded. Sherlock began walking out of the room, he stopped at doorway and turned around, "You did make on critical mistake though…" Susan looked confused. Sherlock's smirk grew even wider, "you told Lestrade your real name." Susan fell back onto the couch, gasping. "Oh god," she muttered, covering her face with her hands. "Don't worry," Sherlock said, taking a step towards her. "Lestrade didn't seem to notice, besides he seems to trust me to some degree… Or perhaps it's more that he fears me…" Sherlock pondered it for a second. Susan took a deep shaky breath, and mumbled, "I pray you are right." Sherlock turned back towards the door and said, "Don't pray, it won't do you any good." Susan stood up again and said, "Wait." Sherlock turned around and raised an eyebrow. "May I have one of your cigarettes?" She asked quietly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "How did you know I used to smoke?" Susan looked Sherlock in the eyes and said, "It's the way you speak and express what you're thinking." Sherlock took a deep breath and said, "Well I don't have any, but you know that is nasty habit to pick up." Susan shrugged and said, "They help me sort through things." Sherlock nodded slowly, looking away. He glanced back and said, "Good night Susan, sleep well." "Good night Sherlock, I'll see you in the morning."


End file.
